Swan sings
Come ! My inevitable end.
Ye! Shores, blow with the
White surfs, I cannot battle,
For my days
are over,
I see
the flora and
fauna
Gyrating
for days and months,
Don’t desire
to compete with them,
For they are
God ordained.
limpid is
my mind,
When I
am done, fragile
Wings reach
ashore,
Pray, give me
clean burial.
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